As I left the plane onto a whole new landscape, an environment so foreign and odd scented, it turned my stomach upside down making me feel homesick when I know that I will be sustaining my life here for the next six weeks of my life in the summer of 2013. I know I probably should be excited to go and visit my mother’s homeland in Vietnam before she immigrated to the United States, but this was not what I have anticipated when I left the nice and clean airport to a land full of pollution and filth. The streets were covered with people’s litter all over the place, and the place itself seem chaotic with a bunch of people rushing to where they need to go. Traffic was crazy since there were no strict traffic laws meaning people can speed and bustle all over the place. What was more frightening was that people cross the road at anytime during the chaotic traffic. The city was unbelievably warm as well; it was late in the evening and the thermometer on my phone read it was 87 degrees Fahrenheit as I sweltered to put my luggage into the car and also with my anxious family around me trying to hug me and kiss me.
After a long car ride, I finally arrived at my grandparent’s house and there were so excited to show my sister and me around the house and the neighborhood despite it being midnight already. It was a nice sized home compared to the houses around it but it did not meet up to my expectations. I was so used to the comfortable bed with air-conditioning, but this house does not have air-conditioning nor is there a proper bed. Instead, there was a cushion type of mat that I laid on to sleep. As I was trying to sleep, I knew that this was going to be a long six weeks of my life. I will miss the unique gadgets back in my home, my comfor...
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...ted States my home even though I might not be living as an ideal American family there. Even though I live in a small house barely passing by in the American society, I know that I am more well off than most other people who don’t know when their next meal is, and who do not know if they are able to feed their kids and survive for tomorrow. As I was at the airport ready to depart, with everyone crying including myself, I saw an older man sitting by himself in old ragged clothing similar to the woman I have seen in the city. At this moment, I was reminded of that fact that I am thankful for what I have and will try to understand that not everyone does not have the opportunity to live life like I do in the United States. I strive to do my best to do well in the United States, and hopefully, I can help my family and others who are struggling with poverty in the future.
The American dream is a goal many hope to live. This desire dream of many individuals includes a hardship, and dedication. The United States represents freedom to many immigrants who fought for a better way of life. America has been a nation of immigrants, starting with its original inhabitants, who left their homelands for a chance to start a new life. According to an article by Gilder Lehrman Institute, over the past 400 years immigrants have escaped to America for many reasons. In the article some reasons for their escapes from their homes was due to war; others for the freedom to practice the religion of their choice. Freedom is the key in America, and the pursuit of happiness, which many fought to be part of. Many immigrants take long journeys for the economic opportunities. Even after thousands of years of immigration history America is still the land of the free, and the country where many can accomplish their American Dream.
I walked around unsteadily all day like a lost baby, far away from its pack. Surrounded by unfamiliar territory and uncomfortable weather, I tried to search for any signs of similarities with my previous country. I roamed around from place to place and moved along with the day, wanting to just get away and go back home. This was my first day in the United States of America.
As the plane slowly descended to a lower altitude, I took off my seatbelt quickly, eager to see the extent of the view. I stood up excitedly to see the whole scenery. When it landed, I eagerly grabbed the items and went out of the plane. The smell of air was different here. It was cold mountain fresh air. Before all I’m familiar with is air pollution. That day, I knew it was a lot different here.
My family's background has influenced me in a positive perspective. I come from a family that has migrated to the USA for decades. And knowing the stories behind the struggles my ancestors, and my parents went through. Makes me appreciate everything that my parents can afford to give me.
So there I was enjoying a beautiful afternoon filled with warm air, the smell of the grill and all my family sitting around the table with me. It is such a treat when we can all get together for dinner. We are all so busy with our own lives that it is a challenge to have us all come together. My sisters both with newborn babies and I with my son who is 6. On this specific occasion it was me, my two sisters, both their husbands, my mother and stepfather who were in attendance. My mother tries relentlessly to make us all be in the same place at the same time. And on days like that day she succeeds. One of my favorite things to do when we all get together is to poke fun at my little sister. Yes no matter how old you are you never outgrow the need to give your little brother or
My mother was the first person to come to America in my family. She came from Ethiopia. My grandfather wanted my mom to have more opportunity so he sent my mom when she was a freshmen in high school. My mom was 14 when she went. My mom was scared because she had no idea and her being 14 and going somewhere she doesn’t know and leaving her family was very hard for her. My mom traveled as a unaccompanied minor on a plane. My mom was in America just for her school and her parents wanted for to stay forever but visit. She went alone but her parents did eventually see her 20 years later. She had to overcome a lot of stuff dealing with immigration. She had to find a relative willing to let them be there guardian and she had to get her green card.
Bangladesh is dirty compared to United States. There is garbage piled up everywhere. There are waste drains everywhere. But it is not all dirty. In Bangladesh, there are big vast green rice fields, which take the breath away, when any one take a look at it. Bangladesh is home to one of the biggest beaches in the world called Cox’s Bazar. I do not care whether it is dirty or clean or poor or rich, I love my home country no matter what. After four years, in December of 2013, my family and I went back to my home town in Bangladesh. It was like I came to whole different country. I had the same feeling that I had when I first came to America. The environment completely changed. But the people haven’t. I saw my old childhood friends and all the memory came back. The nostalgia was too real. Talking in English and being associated with the American culture for so long, I had trouble speaking in my native language.
"Where is Paradise?” said my mom to my Aunt Dee. She replied, "She’s in the living room talking to Robert on the phone. As I and my dad’s conversation progressed about putting minutes on my prepaid cellular phone, my aunt came in the living room and said to me, "Your mother wants you to come and lay back down with her.” Baffled, I just simply said OK. I went back to what was called the “Hall of Fame Room" at my grandma’s house where there were pictures of everyone in the family at various ages. My mom and I slept on the floor in that room whenever we visited. For some reason it felt extremely odd for my mom to want me to come and lay down with her. However, I obeyed. As I begin to lie down she said to me “We are going home early today”. I
My mother is somebody who often irks me. As much as this is true, her role as my mother is to make my lunch, buy me new clothes every so often, do my laundry, feed me dinner, and make sure I am safe at all times. In return, she has expectations of me. I find that these expectations are what cause me to feel that my mother is on my nerves. They include not getting below a ‘B’ on a test, being home by curfew, making sure I text her what I am doing while I am out with friends, and not going out somewhere where she does not feel comfortable with me going.
We said goodbye to our old house at noon. We unpacked the moving truck and emptied boxes. My new room was upstairs, it was the biggest one with a great view of the park behind our house. Everyone was happy. We all had our own rooms, but It didn't feel right. I missed our old house, having the basement all to myself. I hated walking up and down the twenty curved stairs to get to my room. We wanted a bigger house, but this one was a little too big. We had empty spaces everywhere, but it was too late. This was the house that my parents said they will live in the rest of their life, meaning I will live there until I go to
My mother is one of those famous Coca Cola addicts. She drinks it as if it is water and sometimes when someone offers her actual water she honestly looks disgusted. One reason I am committed to living a healthy lifestyle is to be an example to my mother and family and help them make better choices. Their diets are not the best, and they often experience health problems due to bad eating habits. Another reason I am committed to staying healthy is because it makes me feel like Spongebob on the way to the Krusty Krab. I am ready. I feel more positive, energised, and focused when I have been taking care of my body.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
The air is really fresh, and the wind is comfortable. Grandma usually opened the window during the daytime; I still remembered that feeling when the sunshine came in house and scatter. I walking among those numerous grand trees and admire colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. I miss that feeling of calmness and stability of the world around. I wish I could return the reality of those feelings once more. Memories in mind and never forget about happiness of staying in my grandmother’s house. Grandparent’s time-honored gift to their grandchildren is their unconditional love, unfettered by schedules, routines or commitments. They reinforced their grandchildren’s sense of security and self-value.
Unfortunately, my native country has numerous amounts of problems that lead my family to look for better opportunities in the Unites States. As a child, my parents taught me to fear and always be alert while walking in the streets. This was due to the crime and violence we were surrounded by. My parents are both Cuban, but moved to Costa Rica with my two older brothers before I was born. I grew up in a city called San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. Although this was one of the safest placed to live, the fear of getting robbed inside our own home would not let us sleep in peace.
That morning sun marked almost two months that my family and I came to my grandfather’s village. My dad and mom had finally reunited. How lovely can it for a kid to see his or her parents together! It was lovely that we reunited as a family, and as I remember when my mom and I got to the